In the Woods
by joanna77
Summary: President Santos is at Camp David, awaiting his COS and his family. However, Fate and two insiders have other things in store for them. Josh and Donna must survive the night while sorting out a disagreement that threatens to alter their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**In the Woods

* * *

**

I'm standing here on the South Lawn of the White House; the rotor blades are beating the air, stirring the grass on the ground. It's a Saturday afternoon, late October, but unusually warm. The setting sun sprawls over the White House, clothing it into interesting shades of colors; it also softens the cold metallic surface of the chopper. Okay, enough with the poetry, Lyman! The VH-71 Kestrel, usually bearing the call sign Marine One, is ready to take off. The pilot, two marines and an agent of my detail are already seated inside. They are waiting for me to board, but I take a moment to marvel over nature's beauty. It's somehow relaxing.

"Mr. Lyman, wait up!" Special Agent Enrico Tomasso shouts, making me turn around.

"Enrico?" I say his name and arch an eyebrow at him. What he could possibly want right now?

"The President called, we are accompanying you," the agent explains over the sound of the rotors.

I nod and signal the pilot to stop the engines. My agent leaves the chopper to give his place to the agents of Helen Santos and her children. He will join us later at Camp David. Meanwhile, I'm waiting patiently at the steps, thinking about the tasks I have to face upon arriving at the _NSF Thurmont_. I'm also mentally running a check what I had been already able to do while my boss flew out. I stayed behind to take care of some business. It wasn't too much but nonetheless essential, otherwise I would have gone with him.

"Hi!" Miranda Santos, clad in an elegant white blouse, red sweater and deep brown pants, greets me with a smile, and I feel my mouth involuntarily twist into a smile in return. Also I notice that I've got a new found interest in colors. I nod my head and watch as the girl climbs the steps with his agent. I really like her although sometimes she annoys me. I have a hunch that she does that on purpose. Another hunch tells me that someone constantly puts her up to it. I just don't know whether it's the President or Mrs. Santos.

Peter Santos, a deep blue backpack on his right shoulder, doesn't bother with greeting, and it almost seems like he simply hops into the helicopter. I don't know how he does this. He is full of energy, sure, but he does have a grace in him. Well, he is his father's son, I guess. I wonder… No, we won't go there now, Lyman. I'm sure that Peter is in for a dressing-down by his mother. I know how frustrating it had been when I was at the receiving end of those from my own mother, but I also know that the lectures contributed to my 'half-civilized' manners of the present.

Helen and Donna exit last, deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings: the bodyguards, the chopper, the saluting Marine and me. I wonder what they are talking about. Maybe about how pissed Donna is right now. And you can guess at whom.

"Hi, Josh," Helen greets me then as she boards Marine One. She gives me a little smile, and I don't know what to make of it. She is usually pissed at me, so a smile could be a bad sign or a good sign at the same time. She could smile at my demise at the hand of my lover or she could smile at me because I managed to do something good. Not that that good was perceived as good by my fiancée. But we won't go there right now. I don't have the luxury of time to do that right now.

"Ma'am," I return and then gesture towards Donna that she should enter the chopper first. "Ladies first," I murmur, not really knowing why.

"Thank you, Josh," Donna responds and climbs the five little steps. Is that a good sign that she acknowledged my presence? Or is that just her manners? Okay, Josh, we are not going there either. I finally give the sign to the pilot, and the rotors swirl to life once again.

We are sitting in silence, not that we have much chance. It can be pretty noisy in a chopper. The kids keep pinching each other, and Helen reaches out to discipline them with a small gesture of her hand. Every time she does that, I remember the almost same hand movement from my own mother when she did the same to smooth over little fights between Joanie and myself. And every time I have to throw a look at Donna. I can't help it, I just keep picturing her doing the same.

Donna is looking out of the window, and I'm basically doing the same, except when the kids pinch each other and when I throw infrequent, stealthy, furtive glances at Donna. Yes, Sam is rubbing off on me. We had a fight this morning. I mean Donna and me. Let me tell you something I hate fights and I know that Donna hates them even more. We didn't really have a chance to talk since that although I know that I should have called Donna before heading off to Camp David. After all, we weren't supposed to meet for four days. I know that I would have called her from the lodge but I can only hope that Donna knows that too. God, why is this so complicated? And why was I so damn idiot this morning? That sentence I spoke at one in the morning, and Donna's hurt will always follow me. Although what I meant was much better than what came out. And Donna didn't let me explain myself. She just stormed out of the house. So I guess our little misery is both of our faults.

Peter pinched Miranda again. I pull out my Blackberry, there is a simple puzzle game on it. I give it to Helen and indicate with a nod that she should give it to Peter. She takes a look at the display, nods and hands the Blackberry to Peter. He looks back at me with a grin. I guess that's his way to say thank you. And I guess next time he won't forget to greet me. I don't even know why that is important to me, but it is.

There was a flash. Was there a flash outside or just in my head? To tell the truth after the nightmare this morning, I'm not really surprised. Donna left around one and I was really-really tired, also really-really pissed at myself and at Donna, too. So the nightmare wasn't a surprise either. But I really don't want to have an episode right now. Even though they are not that visible or violent nowadays, and I can even recall what others are saying during the episode I'm still not able to participate in conversations during it. Not that I'd like. Heaven forbid, opening my mouth while having an episode would be nothing short of a disaster. I really can't have an episode right now. But I guess it's too late because I can already feel that taste in my mouth. 'Okay, Josh, you have to press your back to the cabin wall.' Did I just hear Stanley's voice? It'd be ridiculous for many-many reasons, but for starters, the wall-therapy wasn't Stanley's idea. I turn around a bit so my back is against the cabin wall. I feel the safety belt tighten around me. I try not to breathe but it's painful nonetheless. I think I will close my eyes just for a minute. I can ride this out. Only if I would dare to take a deep breath, I'm sure that would relax me.

* * *

Why is there smoke in the cabin? What happened? How comes I can't hear the rotors? How comes there is a silence? Make that an eerie one. Why aren't we moving? Wait! We are not moving. Okay, Lyman, concentrate! There is smoke in the cabin. The door is open for some unexplainable reason, and the smoke is slowly dissipating through it. Everybody is out cold. Are they dead? Oh, my God! DONNA!

"Donna!" I cry. There is no answer. I unbuckle the safety belt and reach forward. Helen was sitting in front of me. I feel her face and I touch her neck. Okay, there is a faint pulse there. Good. Miranda was sitting next to her. I catch a glimpse of a dead body next to mine. Come on, Lyman! This is not the time to get squeamish. Good, Miranda has a pulse too. Peter. Peter's breathing hard, he must have inhaled all that smoke but he is awake.

"Peter, can you hear me?" I ask him.

"Josh?" he asks me, his voice unsure.

"I'm here. Unfasten your belt but don't climb out of the machine," I instruct him. Who knows what awaits us there.

I make my way to Donna. I have to step over a foot whose owner is clearly dead, at least judging by the angle of his head. Okay, Lyman, we don't need you to heave on dead bodies. Donna's pulse is steady, and I'm relieved.

"Peter, try to raise your sister. Easy," I warn him when he pokes Miranda. In the meantime, I'm doing the same with Donna. "Come on, Donna! Time to rise and shine!" I joke with her, but my voice is trembling. "Donatella Moss, open your eyes!"

"Hold your horses, Joshua!" she croaks. "I'm trying to collect myself."

"Good. Peter, is Miranda okay?" I ask the boy.

"I'm okay, Mr. Lyman," she tells me.

"Good. Donna, I'll peer outside. If everything is okay, I want you to leave the chopper with the kids," I tell her, and she nods.

There is no one outside, so Donna hops off, helping Miranda and Peter leave the helicopter. I'm finally face to face with Helen. Her breathing is labored, her pulse still very faint, but she seems to be conscious.

"Josh, I'm flattered that you like my neck, but…" she whispers.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"I'm afraid not," she says, coughing. The cough shakes her whole body, and I see that she is in pain. "I think my legs are broken."

"Both?" I ask rather lamely.

"Yeah, Josh, I'm afraid," she says, a little smile tugging at her mouth. I always admired her courage and stamina.

"Okay, I need to check on everyone else, maybe there is someone left who could help us or could call help."

"Don't worry about me, Josh. The kids are your priority," she tells me.

"They are okay," I reassure her, and she nods.

"I know. Peter poked Miranda rather forcefully. I have to talk to him later," she whispers.

I climb over to the pilot's cabin. They seem to be dead too, but then I notice a slight movement from the co-pilot.

"Oh, good! Can you call for help?" I ask him.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he tells me, his breathing ragged. "They disabled the radio before they left." Okay, that explains why two of the agents are not in the chopper and why two of them are dead.

"Do you know what happened?" I ask him.

"They will come back, sir. With reinforcement," he whispers and then coughs. Just as with Helen, the cough shakes his whole body. Also there is blood, slowly trickling from his mouth. "I won't be able to help, sir" he says then apologetically.

"Just hold on, I'm sure help is on its way," I say.

"Sir, you need to take them away from here," he says, rather forcefully.

"I think that the rescue teams have a bigger chance to find us here than…" I want to tell him, but he grabs the lapel of my suit.

"You have to bring them away!" he insists. "Go eastwards, that's the shortest way. You don't know if someone shows up whether they are friend or enemy, don't trust anyone."

True. If two agents are behind this, whom can I trust?

"Okay. Just stay calm," I tell him and climb back to Helen. "Ma'am, two agents did this. I will scoot down to see what happened to your legs."

"Josh, the kids," she whispers.

"In a minute, ma'am," I tell her and squat down as far as the seats allow me. Whoa, it looks pretty bad. There is blood and… And there is bone. It's an open fracture. Well diagnosed, Dr. Lyman, now what should we do?

"Josh, there is no way I can leave the chopper. You have to bring them to safety. Trust no one," she says, her voice is fading.

Concentrate Lyman! Okay, I can't do anything for Helen, and the children's safety is my priority. I pull off one of the agent's coat and cover Helen.

"You'll be okay," I reassure her, but I know that my voice betrays me. Truth is I don't know whether she will be okay. Open fracture is not that bad, but when untreated… Infection, blood loss… Okay. I can't do this anymore. I need help.

"Donna," I call her.

"What's wrong, Josh?"

"Helen has an open fracture. On both legs. I'll look for something you can use as a bandage, but you have to do it, I don't want to puke over it," I tell her with a self-deprecating smile.

"Okay. No, Miranda!" She turns and faces the girl who wants to climb back. "Mommy will be okay, but we need space. We have to tend to her wounds," she explains, and the girl nods.

"Mommy!" I hear Peter, while I'm looking for something to use. Oh, parachutes!

"Sssh, Peter, everything will be okay," I hear Helen. "Listen to me; you have to go with Josh and Donna. They will make sure that you are safe. I want you two to do what Josh and Donna tell you. Could you promise me that?"

"Yes, Mommy," Peter says. I guess Miranda only nodded because I couldn't hear her. Or not.

"Miranda, you have to promise me, sweetheart," Helen insists.

"Okay, Mommy. I promise."

"I found this," I tell Donna when I open the parachute's bag.

"That's good, but we need a scissor," Donna says, and seconds later a little scissor appears next to her.

"I've got this in my backpack," Peter says, and we both flash him a smile.

"You are a very remarkable kid, Peter," Donna praises him, cuts the parachute and bandages Helen's legs. "Will this be okay, Helen?"

"Yes, yes, it's okay. You have to go now," she insists, and I know that she is right.

"Okay, we have to go," I tell Donna and the kids and I can see that they don't want to come. "Okay, we need a commando structure here. When I say something, I expect that it happens. At once," I tell them, and three pairs of eyes are fixed on me.

"Tell what Josh says," Helen says, and Donna nods.

"Okay. Peter, give Donna your backpack," I instruct Peter, and he complies. I let the kids in for a minute, they both kiss Helen, and then we are off.

It's almost dark, and I'm afraid we won't be able to make it far enough. The fallen leaves rustle under our shoes, otherwise we march in silence. Peter already told us that there was a flashlight in his backpack, but we decided that we'll use that later. Miranda stumbled a minute ago, but Donna helped her and I know that now we are pretty used to the uneven ground.

"Peter," I call him in a low voice when we are in a safe distance away from the chopper. "What else do you have in your backpack?"

"A sword, a water bottle, a Blackberry, some chocolate and bonbons. You won't tell Mommy, will you?" he asks then.

"No, Peter, we don't have to tell Mommy," I promise him. "Is that bottle empty?"

"No, there is juice in it. Blackberry juice," he points out. Okay, blackberry is not my kind of drink, but it's better than nothing.

"Is Daddy coming for us?" Miranda asks in a whisper.

"I'm sure that he does everything in his might to find us," Donna reassures her.

"Does he know where we are?" Miranda asks then, making Peter stop.

"We can't stop, Peter. Go on," I admonish him. "I won't lie to you, Miranda, your Dad doesn't know where we are, but I'm sure he is looking for us."

"We could tell him where we are," Peter says.

"The radio in the helicopter was disabled, we can't," I tell him. If there is one thing I've learnt in these past three years with these kids is that you don't lie to them. They are far too clever and smart not to see it through.

"But I have your Blackberry in my backpack," he says.

"Really?" I ask back and wonder why I didn't realize this earlier. Okay, he said he had a Blackberry in his backpack, but I discarded this as useless inform, somehow thinking that there was an actual blackberry in his bag. And when he told me he had blackberry juice, I thought he meant that. Okay, now assuming from now on. We almost missed this chance.

"Yes, although the battery was pretty low," Peter informs me. Yeah, that's right. I used it today often, and then Peter played with it. But it's not our only problem. We don't know where we are.

"Donna, do you have your cell?" I ask her.

"No, my bag was not there when I woke up," she tells me. Okay, she realized it earlier. But then again, she was always the practical one in our relationship. "Your backpack was missing too, by the way." She adds and we know why. I'm still not clear about those two agents, but right now I don't have the mental capacity to think about that.

"Will your Blackberry work, Mr. Lyman?" Miranda asks me.

"Josh," I correct her. "And I hope so. There is a chance that there is no signal here, but let's try it," I tell Donna who puts down the bag. Peter rummages in the backpack and finally pulls out my Blackberry. When I push a button, I see that the battery is pretty low. That means one call. "Okay, I know you want to talk to your Daddy, but you know how it is. If I call the White House they will let us wait while they connect us to Camp David. We can't risk that the battery dies on us. Is that okay?" I ask them, wanting them to understand.

"Yes," the three of them nod.

"Who are you going to call?" Donna asks.

"We could call Sam," Miranda says.

"Sam is in Milwaukee, Miranda," I inform her. "He is pretty busy, maybe his voice mail picks up, and then we don't stand a chance." Yeah, Sam was my first thought too.

"Lou," Peter tells me.

"Lou is with Sam," I say. Yeah, Lou was my second thought. But you see, we are campaigning, we are working on re-electing Matthew Santos.

"You have to call him or her," Donna tells me. Yeah, I came to the same conclusion. "Okay, I'll call a friend of mine. I just hope he will come through to your Daddy." Yes, Donna was talking about CJ and Toby. And while CJ is more likely to come through, it's also more likely that she won't pick up. Toby is always there when I call him and he usually picks up after the second ring. Okay, I have to take the risk.

"Toby Ziegler," I hear him after the first ring.

"Listen, my battery is low. Tell Matt that the kids are okay. We are in the woods, and two agents did this to us," I tell him.

"Okay," I hear Toby's voice, he is remarkably cool, but I didn't expect anything else from Toby. "Do you know where you are?" Always the practical one, just like Donna.

"Yeah, in the forest, more precisely in the middle of the forest. I have no idea," I tell him then. "Will you come through?"

"I will, don't worry about that," Toby says. "You have to take them away from the chopper."

"We are on our way," I tell him. "We are heading south, hoping that they think that we went east to reach the shore."

"Okay. Where is with you?" Toby asks.

"Donna and the kids. Toby, Helen…" I want to say but the battery dies at this moment. Yeah, I heard the little sound that signaled that it was going to die, but I hoped against hope that it will last another minute.

"Who is Toby?" Miranda asks.

"Well, he is a friend of mine. And believe me, he will set everything in motion to find us," I assure her.

Miranda nods, and the reason I can see it is because the moon is out.

"Okay, we have to go on. One more hour, and then we can rest a bit," I tell them.

"It's getting kinda cold," Peter tells me.

"Are you already cold?" Donna asks him.

"No, but if I have to sit down on the cold ground, I'll be. I know, I was sick after I did it last year with Grandfather John," he informs us.

"It's good then that I brought a parachute with me," I try to lighten the mood a little.

"We are sleeping in a parachute?" Peter asks in awe.

"Yeah, buddy, but we need to keep on going for another hour. Think you can manage that?" I ask him. I see and even without seeing, I know that they must dead on their feet, but it's not like we have a choice. "Miranda, are you okay?" I ask the girl who is holding Donna's hand.

"Yes, we are okay, Josh," she tells me, and I nod. "I want you to tell me when you can't go on. I promise I won't get angry," I say, and the three of them nod simultaneously.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**In the Woods**

* * *

We are still going although the hour I aimed for is over. Miranda is still okay, Peter was pretty tired. I picked him up, he is riding on my back. But now I'm dead tired too, the sleepless night and the physical stress wore me out, I guess. I clench my teeth, I think I can go on for another ten minutes.

"Okay, that's it," I tell Miranda and Donna, because I feel Peter's body slacken against my back. "I think he is asleep, and now he is dead weight, I can't carry him on," I explain them.

They nod, and Donna removes the parachute from the bag and stretches it out. I place Peter in the middle, hoping that he doesn't wake, and motion Miranda to lie down next to him. Donna and I settle down to flank them from both sides. Then we pull the excess material over our bodies, leaving only our head exposed.

"Is Mommy okay?" Miranda asks, and I know she had to think of this the whole way but didn't ask because she didn't want to worry her brother.

"I won't lie to you, Miranda," I say, "she was injured. I hope that someone found her and that she is already in a hospital."

"Was the injury bad?" Miranda presses on.

"I'm not a doctor, Miranda, but I think it was serious. Not critical, but serious. You understand the difference, right?"

"Yes, Josh. Thank you for not lying to me," she says. "Does Daddy know what to do? You are his top advisor." She can be sweet sometimes, and most of the times I really like her. I touch her hand, and she turns to me.

"Honey, your Daddy is one of the smartest crayons in the box," I tell her, making her smile. "I'm 100 percent sure that he knows what to do."

"Yeah, he is really smart," Miranda agrees in a whisper. "I'm sleepy, is it okay to sleep?" she asks, looking over to Peter. I hope that one day my daughter will be the same considerate, loving person like Miranda.

"Yes, honey, rest assured that we will watch your back while the two of you are sleeping," I tell her, and she closes her eyes. Her breath evens out, and soon she is asleep. I watch her face, and notice that some time during our walk in the forest she must have been crying. There are two lines of tears visible on her dirt covered face. "She had been crying?" I ask Donna in a whisper.

"Yes," she simply answers.

"Should we take turns or do you want to keep me company?" I ask her gently.

"I'm pretty tired but I want to keep you company, Josh," she says, and I can hear her emotions in her voice.

"Donna, I know I don't say this enough, but I love you."

"I know, Josh. And I love you too, I hope you know that," she says. Yes, I know. But I also know that she sometimes doesn't like me.

"But right now you don't like me?" I press.

"Right now… I think I've never loved you more than right now, Josh," she confesses, and I have to tell you my eyes are misty and my heart is thumping. I don't think I deserve such happiness but I'm not the fool I once was, I accept it as long as it's mine.

"I would like to explain myself and then apologize," I whisper to her.

"Josh, you don't need to…" she says, but I cut her off.

"I need to do this. It's almost midnight, and I can't stand the thought that you are mad at me for more than twenty-four hours."

"Okay," she sighs.

"I meant everything I said this morning, Donna. I'm happy and I want to marry you. No," I cut her off again when she protests. "I even meant that hurtful sentence although my choice of words surely is an indicator how much of a jerk I am."

"Josh, that sentence made me cry," she confesses.

"I know, Donna, that's why I want to apologize. But I will do that later. First I want to explain why I said it."

"Okay," she says and then hesitates a moment before speaking again, "Chief of Staff Knocks Up His Former Secretary," she repeats my sentence, and I hear that she is about to cry again.

"Donna, that's how they will present it. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. If we do marry they will still say it, but the story is half as interesting if we are married."

"And I told you, Josh, I don't want to marry you because of the baby," she says. Yes, I know. That's where she left this morning.

"Okay, can we pick up the conversation from there?" I ask her, and she nods. "I love you, and you know that. Is that not good enough of a reason to marry?"

"Josh, I treasure it that you love me and I really appreciate that you want to make an honest woman of me but it's not enough for marriage."

"Donna, we are lovers since the elections. That's three years. You didn't want to move in with me, and I can understand that although I'm not happy about it," I admit, and then go on. I have to know. I really have to know because I really want to marry her but honestly I don't see where she is coming from. I mean I love her. It surely must be enough! "What would be a good enough reason for marriage?"

"I can't tell you that, Josh, it would be cheating. But if you don't know right now that proves my point, you are not ready to be married," she says, and I feel the anger rising up.

"Okay, I think you should go to sleep," I tell her and can't help to notice how cold my voice sounds.

"No, Josh," she protests. "We have to talk about this."

"I know, but right now I'm pissed at you," I confess.

"That's okay, I'm pissed at you too," she says and smiles a sad smile.

"I want to marry you, Donna. Is that not enough? I, the man who was afraid of commitment, want to marry you."

"Josh, that's not enough, I'm sorry."

I'm so mad right now that I could shout. If there was a wall in front of me, I think there would be a hole right through by now. I need to vent, I need to shout. But I can't. I need to keep my voice low. The whole idea of talking is maybe dangerous, but I can't help it. I want her to feel, to know how I feel.

"You want to know why I want to marry you?" I ask, still trying to keep my voice down but it's a struggle, I can tell you.

"Yes, Josh, that's what I want to know." Why is it that she is so composed and so level-headed during these arguments? Why can't I be that way?

"I want to marry you because of that damn photographer in front of my house," I tell her, and I see that she is confused.

"Josh, to tell the truth, I honestly have no idea what you are talking about," she says.

"You know about the paparazzo at the other side of my street?" I ask her. I know that she knows, we talked about it once or twice.

"Yeah, but I don't understand why you want to marry me because of him."

"Because he makes us cheap!" I exclaim, still keeping my voice low. This sucks. What's good about an argument if you can't raise your voice? "Because he makes our relationship like it's some kind of tawdry affair, like a sordid liaison! I don't want people to think that because it's not true. What we have is something I treasure, something I want to have for the rest of my life. And you know what? I'm hurt. I'm hurt because you wouldn't stay for the night. I need to hold you and I need you to hold me," I admit. "I had nightmares this morning after you left. I couldn't sleep a single minute because once I fell asleep the nightmares came. I desperately needed you, Donna, but you weren't there. And I'm hurt because of it."

"Oh, Josh," I hear her whisper.

"Why wouldn't you marry me? I know you love me, you carry my child. Is the thought of being married to me so hideous?" I know that I sound pretty desperate, but I really am. And Donna is crying again. "Why is it that all our serious conversations end up with me being angry and you crying?"

"Oh, Josh," she whispers again. "You just gave me a good enough reason to marry you," she is laughing through her tears.

"I did?" When did that happen?

"You told me you needed me in your life, you told me you want us for the rest of your life. I want that. I'll marry you if you still want me,"

"More than ever," I tell her and reach out my hand over the kids' heads. She takes it and caresses the back of my hand with her thumb.

"Was the nightmare bad?" she asks then.

"I knew it was a dream, I knew it this time, but it was still bad," I whisper back. I don't like talking about my nightmares, but this is Donna, my love, my soon-to-be wife and the mother of my child. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. I'll schedule a visit with my gynecologist when we are done here. Would you like to come?"

"Yes," I say and nod. I really want to be there for Donna.

"Thank you, Josh," she whispers.

"You didn't answer my other question," I tell her.

"About the serious conversations?" she asks, and I nod. "Josh, how many times do we have serious conversations where we talk about us?"

"Every once in a while?" I ask tentatively. We like fooling around and we talk about politics every time, but conversations concerning us are rare.

"Exactly. By the time we have those conversations you bottled up enough anger to drive you to the edge and when you are angry at me I tend to cry."

"We should schedule serious conversations concerning us?" I ask her half jokingly-half serious, knowing that she likes being organized.

"Josh," she says in a warning undertone, but I see that she is smiling. "No, I don't want to schedule conversations. I just need you to tell me when I piss you off."

"Why am I not able to tell you until it's almost too late?" I muse aloud, hoping that she helps me to understand.

"Why, Josh?" she asks me.

"No, I asked you," I clarify.

"I know, but it's your psyche, you should realize it on your own not because I told you," she says, and I know she is right. And finally I give this a thought. Why is it that I'm afraid to yell at Donna, why is it that I'm afraid to tell her that she hurt me or that she made me angry?

"I'm afraid," I tell her.

"Afraid of what, Josh?" she asks gently, and I know I'm on the right path.

"Afraid that one day you'll leave me," I tell her. "Afraid that while I'm angry I say something bad, something unforgivable and you'd leave me."

"Yes, I know that," she says. I know she knew; she knows me better than anybody else, including myself. "I'm afraid too, you know. Because I know that you have the power to hurt me so much that I'd leave you. But I also trust you, Josh. You say things in the heat of an argument that I know you don't mean. I can live with those. I know that you want to hurt me because I hurt you or because you are angry. I accepted this a long time ago."

"Why?"

"Because I love you the way you are. And you have to trust me too, Josh. You have to trust me that I can deal with this side of you. If I'd ever leave you, you could trust me that it wouldn't be because you told me for example that I have no feeling of self-worth or because I'm stupid."

"I never said you were stupid," I say, and I'm painfully aware of the fact that I did say the other thing.

"I know that, Josh," she whispers back. "Do you trust me?"

"I do," I say, and I honestly do. "What would make you leave?"

"If you'd mean those words or if you wouldn't love me anymore."

"How could you know that I don't really mean them?"

"I know you, Josh," she tells me, and I nod. She really does. "Besides, I know that you try. You try to control yourself, and I know you love me. That's why I stayed with you for these three years."

"Yes, I try. Am I making any progress?" I ask her, and I smile. Maybe the first time since we left the chopper. Or maybe the first time since she left my apartment this morning.

"Yes, Josh, you are definitely better at it," she says, and I let out a sigh of relief. "I know you have to control yourself in front of the Joint Chiefs and Senators and Congressmen and the President, and I know that you need to vent. You can vent, you have the right to vent. I think it would be better though if you would vent daily rather than weekly or monthly. All that bottled anger is really not healthy. Would you like to try? Because I'd like to help you with that."

"Yeah, that would be good," I admit. "Would you like a boy or a girl?" I ask her then out of the blue. I don't know what prompted the question suddenly, but I want to know.

"I would like a boy, Josh, but I really want nothing else but a healthy baby," she tells me, and I nod. Same feeling here. "What about you?"

"I concur, but I would like to have a girl. She could have your hair but maybe my eyes. Do you think it'd good?" I ask her and I think about whether I would make a good father. I mean I have my father as an example, I have Leo who was kind of a surrogate father to me and I have President Bartlet. I've always wondered whether I could be such a good father as he is. Sure he has his faults but he is a very good father.

"It doesn't work that way, Josh, but I think it'd good. She would be part me, part you. And Josh, I think you'll be an excellent father."

"Do you honestly think that or do you want to make me feel better?" And how comes she knew I was thinking about that?

"I honestly think that, Joshua."

"Okay," I say gratefully. "Thank you. I like it."

"What?"

"When you call me Joshua. I don't know, it's… It's so familiar. So intimate," I confess.

"Oh, Josh. You can be so sweet sometimes," she whispers, squeezing my hand. I squeeze it back, and we stare at each other, eyes locked, both of us sporting a little smile.

"Do you think Toby came through?" I ask her.

"Yes, definitely. You know what I think? I think he called Andie and she called the President," she tells me. Strangely, I had the same idea.

"Yeah, sounds about right. I hope the President keeps his cool," I say, but I can't imagine him staying level-headed when his kids are in the middle of nowhere and his wife is injured. Of which he probably doesn't even know yet.

"Yeah, I think that ship sailed the moment Ron told him that we dropped off of radar," Donna says, and I know she is right. "Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you think they left us there? I mean we'd serve better as hostages."

"Yeah, I was thinking about that. There are a number of scenarios," I tell her. Please, don't ask me about them, Donna. Please, don't ask me about them.

"Name just one. The one that would reassure me, Josh," she tells me, and I know I lost. I have to share my theories with her. But you see, these theories are no fairy-tales.

"Are you sure?" Yeah, I'm stalling the inevitable. I don't want her to know that my mind works that way, that I can imagine these scenes casually. It's not casual, and I can only hope that she knows that. It's me. It's me in Chief of Staff mode.

"Come on, Josh, you told me there are a number of scenarios," she reminds me.

"Yeah, okay. Well, there were two agents. I guess one of them had to run off to get their cronies and the other one should have stayed there with us. They had a quarrel and shot each other. It was dark when we left the chopper and I didn't exactly secure the perimeter, so there were maybe two dead bodies on the other side."

"Okay, that's a reassuring one. Tell me another one," she demanded.

"They got out, one of them had pangs of guilt or remorse whatever, shot his partner and then committed suicide," I tell her, and she shudders. I can't help it, my mind works this way.

"You are aware of the fact that if these two scenarios are likely than we should have waited by the chopper."

"The co-pilot told me to take you away from the helicopter. And you know full well that we can't trust anyone. Picture it. Just picture it that a squadron of Secret Service agents finds us. What would you do? Would you trust them? Because right now I don't trust anyone but the people here with me and maybe a couple outside this forest."

"You are right. Are there other scenarios?"

"Yeah, the co-pilot could have been a co-conspirator. He had a pretty bad wound but he'll live if he gets treated," I tell her.

"And yet you took us away from the chopper just as he said," Donna wants to confirm.

"Yeah, because he was right about that. But he told me to head eastwards. I didn't follow his advice," I say, waiting for the realization.

"You warned, Toby!" Donna exclaims, and Peter stirs for a second.

"Yep, I informed Toby. I just hope that he gets a personal conversation with the President."

"Yeah, me too," Donna whispers. "What do you think what does he right now?"

"I think by now he ordered Sam and Lou back. I think he contacted the Joint Chiefs but I can tell you that he won't trust them either. I hope he contacted one of his old Marine friends and I hope someone had an idea to call on to the only set of Secret Service agents I would trust."

"President Bartlet's," she whispers.

"Exactly. These are the times I miss Leo," I admit, and she squeezes my hand again. "I mean Sam's a great guy but he wasn't with us when Zoey was kidnapped. I wish you could be with him, you'd great," I say, and suddenly an image pops into my mind. Donna advising President Santos in the Oval Office. Nice picture.

"Yeah, I wish you could be with him. You'd know the words to keep him centered," Donna says, and I nod. I wouldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams, but I'm actually a pretty good Chief of Staff. I'm good at calming him down, helping him see the whole board, as Sam calls it. President Bartlet says Leo would be proud. I certainly hope so. "I think if they let Toby near him, he will be a great asset. Do you think they will?"

"I don't know, Donna. But keep two things in mind, he is in Camp David and he trusts no one. He is not moving. And I kinda think that they are in a lockdown both in the White House and at the retreat."

"Yeah, that's what I feared."

"I really am sure that he called President Bartlet," I say, while squeezing her hand.

"I hope so," she whispers, and soon I can hear her breath even out. I find it very soothing listening to her rhythmic breathing. And then I fall asleep too. I know I promised to watch the kids' back, but I practically hadn't had a sleep three days in a row. I had to help prepare Sam's and Lou's visit, oversee the Camp David advance team. And basically everybody else got on my nerves. Not to speak of last night's nightmares.

I wake up what feels like a minute later, but I must have been asleep longer since it already dawns. Donna squeezed my hand pretty forcefully, and the kids are awake too. All three of them are looking at me, eyes wide with fear. There is someone near to us; I can hear the fallen leaves rustling underneath their feet. I put my finger in front of my mouth, and Donna and the kids nod. Maybe if we stay put and don't utter a sound they won't find us.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**In the Woods**

* * *

No such luck. The footsteps grow closer and I jump up, grabbing the backpack. I throw the parachute over Donna and the kids and shuffle some leaves to hide the parachute. Fortunately, it's a military issue so it's khaki in color.

"Quiet," I order and turn around, moving away from them in quick strides. I'm about five feet away when I spot a shadow first, then a man appears.

"Good morning, Mr. Lyman," he greets me, his hand on his Sig Sauer. "President Santos sent me to collect you and his children. Where are they?"

"I've sent them away with Ms. Moss," I tell him, praying for the poker face I know I'm lacking.

"Yeah, that's very likely," he tells me. "Okay, no need for a charade then, I guess. I have a gun and you don't, Mr. Lyman. And no need to tell you what happened last time you found yourself on the other side of a gun."

"Playing dirty, aren't we?" I remark sarcastically, keeping my cool. I can fall apart later, I need to do this for Donna and Matt's kids. "Who said I don't have a gun, Tim?" I ask him and produce the gun I got from one of the dead agents.

"Would you be able to fire it off?" he teases me in a mocking undertone.

"I'm sure I will, considering that it would be in defense."

"What constitutes as defense, Mr. Lyman? Me firing my gun? I'm a Secret Service agent, I have training, you don't. I could kill you right now without you being able to even raise that gun."

"Well, but then you'll never be able to find the kids and Donna. And you'd short of one hostage," I retort, my voice cold, but trembling slightly. I don't want to die, not now when I'm becoming a father.

"I'm sure I'd be able to track them down. And I don't need you as a hostage, in fact, I don't need Ms. Moss as a hostage."

That's true and I guess this is a real threat, so my I consider my next move as defense, I fire off my gun and then throw myself on the ground. I see him grabbing his right shoulder with his left hand, his gun fell out of his hand. I quickly scoot over and grab his gun before he realizes it's gone. And then I spot Donna standing behind him. I make some pretty loud noises, but his curses and his pain make sure that he doesn't hear Donna. My fiancée kneels into his knees from the back, making him buckle, and I quickly grab his feet, pulling at them, making topple, face first into the dirt. Unfortunately, he hits his head on a nearby tree and in mere seconds he is unconscious.

"Is he dead?" I hear Miranda asking.

"No," I say, when I feel the man's steady and strong pulse. "He is just unconscious. We should get going before he wakes up," I tell them.

"We can't leave him here like that, it would murder," Donna tells me.

"Donna, I'm aware of that, but if he wakes up and finds us here, I can't defend you otherwise but shooting him. And that'd be murder too," I tell her impatiently.

"Josh, we should at least tend to his wound," she tries to convince me, and I give in.

"Fine, but I'm trussing him up before," I tell her, making my way back to our parachute, taking Peter's scissors with me.

When I return, I see that Donna made a pressure bandage out of her shawl, and I hand him a piece of parachute to bandage the man's shoulder. I take his other hand and tie it to the tree. I also tie his legs to each other. I know that this isn't a safe tie, I know that maybe he could free himself later, but I also think that he will be out for an hour or so and with his injury he will have a hard time to free himself.

"Okay, let's get going," I order them after Donna finishes the bandage. I folded our parachute with Miranda's help, so we are ready to go.

We run for the first ten minutes, and then I double back to make sure that we didn't leave any traces. I plant some clues that might lead him to the wrong direction, using Miranda's barrette and a piece of Peter's coat. Then I rejoin them and we continue our way in a brisk step for another twenty minutes.

"I want my Mommy," Peter whines, finally giving in the stress. I can't blame him, all I really want is to curl up next to Donna and let her make me feel better.

"Peter, I know that you miss your Mommy," I lean down, looking him into his eyes. "But we can't go back to her."

"What happened to Mommy?" he asks pretty much the only question I don't know the answer for.

"I don't know, Peter. I can only hope that she was found and brought to a hospital." Should I have maybe lied to him? But then again, I don't really have a poker face and I'm really convinced that when you want someone to trust you, you should never lie to him. Or her.

"When is Daddy coming for us?" he asks, and there we have it. Another question I don't have the answer for. It can be pretty frustrating.

"As soon as he can," I tell him. A politician's answer, but at least it's the truth.

"When will that be?" he continues the interrogation.

"Peter, stop bothering Josh!" Miranda snaps at her brother, and I know she is under the tension too. I look up, arching an eyebrow at Donna. What should we do right now? We can't really stop going, but we clearly have to address the issue. When I look at Miranda again, she is all tears again, and I guess Peter noticed it too, since he runs to hug her. Donna finally gathers them in a hug, and I feel somehow left out. Until she beckons me over and I hug them all.

"Listen up, I hope that today we could reach some village or find a cabin for shelter. We should go on. Again, if you can't go on, please tell me, I promise…" I want to finish but Miranda and Peter interrupt me.

"You won't get angry," they say simultaneously, and I send them a grin. They grin back. This natural ability of kids to bounce back no matter how bad it gets, that's something I'm really envious of.

"Right. Let's head out," I tell them, but Peter interrupts me by shaking his head.

"What's up, buddy?" I lean down to be at eye level with him, and he leans closer to whisper something in my ear.

"I have to pee," he says, and I can't help it, I have to smile. We already had this conversation yesterday along the way, but he wasn't embarrassed by it then.

"Of course. What do you say, we leave the girls to their girly routine and we seek out a place for us, men?" I ask him, wiggling an eyebrow at Donna and Miranda. They both giggle. Okay, make them laugh, maybe we can save the conversation I'm not prepared for.

"Okay," Peter says with a grin, and we trot away to find a spot.

"Wait!" Donna calls after us, and we turn at the same time. She licks the tip of her forefinger and lifts it up, turns a few times and then nods. "Yep, wind blows from northeast." She says and then adds, "You know what that means, right?" She looks at us pointedly, and I think I actually blush. But now I know that Donna understands my tactic.

"Donna is really droll today, don't you think, Peter?" I ask Peter in a mock whisper because I want both Donna and Miranda to hear me.

"What does droll mean?" Peter asks, making Donna and Miranda double over in laughter. Here I am, trying to be witty, and my companion in misery, my fellow man doesn't get it.

"Ask Donna, she can tell you droll stories pretty good," I tell him then.

"So droll is funny?" Peter asks back.

I can only nod because I have to think this over for a second. That means that Donna tells them stories. What kind of stories, I can only guess.

"So Donna tells you funny stories?" I ask him.

"Every time," Peter admits.

"What kind of stories?" I ask him, already dreading the answer.

"Old stories about you and Sam," Miranda answers, still laughing a bit. Donna is regularly beaming at me, like she is proud or something.

"Okay, but if I were you I wouldn't believe half the things she says, she likes to embellish those stories," I say, making Donna's grin even wider.

"She said you'd say that," Miranda tells me, her expression matches Donna's.

"Yeah, I bet she did," I whisper, not knowing how to get back at Donna at the moment. "Okay, buddy, let's get going," I tell Peter, and we maneuver our way through the forest to find a spot away from the girls, but still close to hear them if something comes up.

"Is it true that you and Sam set the White House on fire?" Peter asks me, after he is done.

"Yep," I admit, not wanting to broach the subject anymore.

"What do you think my father would have done if you'd done that during his presidency?" he asks then.

"I think he would have been in stitches although I can imagine why President Bartlet was less than amused while standing on the Truman balcony around 4 a.m. in January," I say for full disclosure.

"He had to stand there in the middle of the night? In January?" Peter asks his eyes wide. I guess Donna didn't mention that fact when she told the story.

"In his pj's," I add.

"Wow, I bet he was angry," Peter says, and I nod.

"Ready?" I finally ask him, and we make our way back to the girls.

"I'm hungry," Miranda says then, and I look at Peter. He must be hungry too. And to tell the truth, I'm too. We didn't eat anything but some kind of bonbons Peter had in his backpack.

"Okay, time to break out the heavy stuff, Peter," I tell him, and he nods. He has a special double block of Hershey's chocolate bar in that backpack.

"Oh, Peter!" Donna swoons, and Peter gets a kiss. And while Peter and Miranda break the block into four pieces, I complain to Donna that I didn't get a kiss. She looks at the kids and then gives me a peck on the lips.

"Donna!" I whine, and she smiles at me mysteriously. I hope she thinks about the same things I do.

"You can get lucky after I showered," she whispers into my ear, and I check whether the kids heard her promise. They are still occupied with the chocolate so it's safe for me to relish the prospect for a few moments. And I also got the message; I have to bring them to safety.

"Let's go, you can eat it on the way," I usher the three of them forward, and we are on our way again. Donna and Peter are walking in front of me, Miranda falls into step with me at the back.

"Will Tim be okay?" she asks me right away.

"I think so. But Miranda, you understand why I had to do it, right?" I ask him, praying that I she understands. I don't know why it's so important to me, but it is. I'm waiting for her answer, holding my breath back.

"He wanted to kill Donna and take us so he can blackmail Daddy to do something bad," she sums up that situation, and I know she understands. We continue our way in silence for the next five minutes, when she addresses me again.

"Josh, what do you think he is doing right now?" Miranda asks me, and I don't need to clarify who she means.

"I think right now he is on the phone with one of his former comrades."

"Maybe Uncle Gregory," she says, and I vaguely remember this former Marine named Gregory Lymburg. "He was there for the Fourth of July thing," Miranda says, and I nod. Yes, I definitely remember him.

"Yep, I think he is calling him to ask him whether he found us," I tell Miranda.

"Do you think he will?" she asks back.

"I guess so. What would you like to do when we get back to the White House?" I ask her to take off her mind of our predicament.

"Take a bath, wash my hair and change into something that's not itching," she tells me, and I can't help it, I have to laugh. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I just would like to do the same. I would also like to wear some slippers for a month or so, I guess. This shoe is killing me," I tell her, scrunching my face, looking down at my shoes.

"Yeah, my shoes are not much better," she admits, looking down at her patent leather strappy shoes. "Did you and Donna have a fight yesterday?"

"Yeah, we had, but we are okay now," I tell her.

"That's good. Mum says you and Donna are so in love with each other that it's sometimes hard to bear," she imparts.

"Your mum said that?" I ask back, my voice going high at the end.

"Yeah, she told Dad, and I kinda overheard," Miranda says.

"You mean you were eavesdropping," I correct her with a grin.

"They were talking very loud," Miranda says defensively. I think she would make a pretty good politician. "Will you two marry?"

"Yes, and very soon, I guess," I admit, no need to keep it secret, Donna already agreed.

"But she doesn't have a ring," Miranda protests.

"You mean an engagement ring?" I ask her to clarify.

"Yes, she should have one if you are going to get married," Miranda admonishes me, looking at me quite outraged.

"I'll buy her a ring as soon as we get back," I promise her.

"I'm worried about Mommy," she whispers then, watching Peter, hoping that he didn't hear her admission.

"I know, kiddo," I tell her and take her hand into mine. We continue our way in silence, and I hope that I'll never know the anxiety and helplessness Matt must feel right now. Miranda's hand in mine keeps me thinking of my own baby. And about baby names for all that is important at this moment. I agree, all I want is a healthy baby, but I hope it's a little girl. I don't know if Donna inherited her family's craziness about name giving although I know that Donatella is quite common in Italy, and after all her mom is Italian. Anyway, maybe I could head off the disaster, not that I'm not fond of her name. I know, I'm not making any sense. Bear with me, I'm hungry, I'm thirsty and my back and feet are hurting on top of it.

Hannah is a good name, my mother's name, to tell the truth, but that's not why I like it. Hannah Moss-Lyman. I think that sounds good. Heather Moss-Lyman. It's okay, but not that good as Hannah. Abigail Moss-Lyman. I don't know where that came from, but I know–thanks to a particularly boring bus ride during our first Bartlet campaign–that Abigail is a Hebrew name meaning father's joy. Well, this little one will be her father's joy, that's for sure. I can picture us in the Rose Garden, she is looking up at me with love and trust. I'd really like that. Three weeks ago, I caught Matt and Miranda fooling around in the Rose Garden, they looked completely lost in their own game; they didn't even notice I was standing there, watching them. I wanted that memory to be mine. And now it can come true, although we have to win the election for that. One more incentive to work harder towards that goal. And of course, we have to get home first.

"Would you like to have kids?" Miranda asks then out of the blue, brining me back from my dreams.

"Yes, kiddo," I admit, not telling her that Donna is pregnant. It's her privilege to break the news; besides, I don't know how far she is but I know that mothers don't like to tell anyone in the first twelve weeks.

"A boy or a girl?" Miranda asks.

"A girl."

"That'd be good. I could babysit her if you want," she offers.

"Thanks, Miranda," I answer and send her a grin. She grins back. She knows something. Maybe she was not so asleep yesterday.

"We were loud, right?" I refer to her term of eavesdropping and see that she is blushing a bit. But then she smiles at me, and I know she didn't want to pry; she was just kept awake by us.

"Yep. And I was thinking about names," she admits then.

"Really? Me too. What did you come up with?"

"I really like the name Joanna."

"No, that's not an option, sorry," I tell her. It's to similar to my sister's name, and I wouldn't want that.

"Okay." She nods and offers me the next one. "What about Sophia? I know that Donna's half-Italian. Sophia Lyman," she tries, and I have to admit it does sound good.

"Moss-Lyman," I correct her.

"Sophia Moss-Lyman. Nah, that's not so good anymore. Yours?"

"Hannah Moss-Lyman. Or Abigail Moss-Lyman," I tell her and almost see the little wheels turning in her head.

"I have an Abigail in my class," she says. "We called her Abbey."

"Yeah, I know an Abigail too," I tell her.

"The former First Lady, I know," Miranda tells me, and gives me a smile.

"What about Hannah?" I ask her.

"That's your mother's name," she tells me. I'm completely flabbergasted.

"How do you know that?" I manage to squeak out.

"Donna told me once. She was talking to your mom on the phone," she explains, and I nod. "But if you give her the name Hannah, you should give her Mrs. Moss' name too."

"I guess then I have to give up on Hannah," I tell her. No way will I name my child Giacinta. Not even as a middle name!

"You should talk Donna about it," Miranda tells me, giving me an unfathomable look.

"You didn't happen to overhear a conversation about baby names?" I ask her tentatively.

"Mum, Donna and Annabeth were talking about baby names just the other day. Annabeth and Craig want to have babies," she tells me. "They are thinking about adoption."

"I see." Well, this information is new, and I feel only a bit uncomfortable about the way I got it. But she offered me this piece freely, so my conscience can rest for a while. Until I blurt out something in front of Annabeth, I guess.

"Annabeth said they were in various orphanages, and they saw a little girl named Isabella. Mommy said it's a beautiful name, and Donna said that's her sister's name, and if it weren't her sister's name she would give it to her baby, once she had one."

"I see. And you think she wants an Italian name?" I ask Miranda.

"I don't know. Is it that bad?" Miranda asks back.

"Nah, I don't think so. Although it can be a mouthful, to tell the truth," I admit. "With Moss-Lyman at the end I think we need something shorter. That's why I prefer Hannah to Abigail."

"I see. Well, Donna will be Donatella Moss-Lyman. That's long but I think it sounds good," Miranda tells me, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling. Donatella Moss-Lyman. Donna will be my wife. She will be mine forever. We will have a family together. Oh, get it together, Lyman!

"When you are done with the naming procedure, could you catch up with us?" I hear Donna asking. "There is a house over there," she informs us.

Miranda lets go of my hand and runs forward. I walk to Donna and encircle her waist with my arms.

"She overheard us yesterday," I whisper to her.

"I know. I don't mind," Donna says, giving me a brief kiss again. "And we will have a list and once we saw the kid we will decide what fits."

"Okay, I can live with that."

"And we will compile a list of boy names, too," Donna adds then. "What do you think? Should we try?" She motions towards the house.

"I'm thirsty, Donna," I tell her, and she nods. "If for nothing else but for water and maybe a phone call we should try it. I'll go first, see what I find. If everything okay, you can come after me with the kids. Okay?"

"Okay," she agrees and she takes both Peter and Miranda by the hand. I reach the house and look back, they are staying in the shadows of the trees.

I knock on the door and look down at my watch. It's almost 9 o'clock. I hope they are already up.

"Coming!" I hear a voice, and I feel relief washing over me.

_TBC_

_A/N: Tell me what you think, drpp a review. :) _


	4. Chapter 4

**In the Woods**

* * *

The door opens, and a middle-aged woman is standing there, looking at me appraisingly. She has deep brown eyes and curly, brown hair.

"Good morning!" I greet her.

"Good morning," she counters and smiles. "I take that you lost your way in the forest."

"Yeah, that about right. We spent the night in the forest, and…" I tell her, and I could smack myself on the head for that slip.

"We as in your family and you?" she asks me, pointing toward Donna and the kids. I couldn't see them if I didn't know that they are standing there, how comes that she can? Well, she is home, I guess, she must know the vicinity enough to spot any anomalies.

"Yes, ma'am. Could we get some water and maybe we could use your phone?" I ask her, beckoning my companions to me.

"But of course. My name is Rebecca Royce," she says, and I mumble my name too. She doesn't seem to recognize me, but that's okay with me right now. Otherwise I might be offended, but I don't care at the moment. "I guess you must be pretty hungry too," she says, and the kids are nodding their agreement with the sentiment. I make introductions, and they shake hands. "I have cornflakes and milk, if that's okay with you," she tells them. Miranda nods fiercely, Peter scrunches his face at the milk, but I guess he is too hungry to be picky.

Our hostess guides us into her house, and we take in our surroundings with silent awe. The house is magnificent but homey at the same time. She ushers us into the kitchen, but Donna tells her that we need the bathroom first. We take our turns, washing our hands and taking care of other business. The kids are already in the kitchen, eating their cereals, when Donna and I enter.

"Coffee?" she asks us, and I nod. Donna shakes her head and asks for a glass of milk. Peter is looking at her like she lost her mind. I guess he is not used to someone voluntarily drinking milk. We sit down and watch the kids eat, while our hostess makes us a few toasts and scrambled eggs. I never knew I would be so thankful for food. I can go without food for a day, but right now I couldn't go on for another ten minutes. Peter asks for eggs too, Miranda says she had enough. We are chatting about the house and the forest while we eat our breakfast, carefully avoiding any other topics.

"My Blackberry is in my study," she says after we finish our breakfast. I feel like a human again, although my clothes are still dirty and my shoe is killing me too.

"You have a Blackberry?" I ask incredulously. I know it might seem rude but somehow I couldn't picture this lady with a Blackberry, maybe a laptop to surf the web for recipes or something, but certainly not a Blackberry. I know, I know, that'd be the time Donna whacks me. Bear with me, I can be a jerk on my best days, and this is certainly not one of them.

"Yep, I don't have a phone line; it's too far from town. My publisher gave me a Blackberry, and I have to agree it's quite useful," she explains.

"Oh, that Rebecca Royce!" Donna exclaims, and I'm lost. I've never heard of her, but that's not surprising, I read memos and memoirs. I plan to read more when I retire, but right now I really don't have the time.

"Yes, dear," she says and looks at her.

"I liked your last one the best," Donna says honestly, and then we proceed into the study.

"Maybe you could give me your charger, and then I could use my own," I tell her, and she nods, rummaging in one of the drawers.

"I'll leave the two of you alone," she says, giving me the charger and pointing out the outlet. "I don't have cable TV but I have a DVD player and a documentary about the Seven Wonders of the World. Would that be okay for the kids to watch?" she asks Donna.

"Definitely," Donna agrees. "Their clothes are pretty dirty, Ms. Royce, they shouldn't sit on the couch."

"That's okay dear, I have a quilt, I'll drape that over the couch."

"Thank you," Donna says, and I finally manage to switch on my Blackberry. "You are calling Toby again?"

"Yes," I tell her and take her hand into mine. She squeezes my hand while I wait for Toby to pick up.

"Toby Ziegler," he says, and Donna leans closer to hear his voice too.

"It's me, Josh," I tell him and I hear him sigh with relief.

"Are you okay?" he asks finally.

"Yeah, we are okay. Where are you?"

"At Camp David with Andie," he informs us, and now it's time for me to sigh in relief.

"Can I talk to the President?" I ask him.

"On my way to Aspen Lodge," he says. "Are you really okay?"

"Yep, we took a risk and we are now in a house. Rebecca Royce's house," I tell him.

"The writer?" he asks back, and now I really feel dumb. Everybody knows who Rebecca Royce is but me. I guess I should take the time to read.

"Yup. Listen, Toby, how is Helen?"

"She is okay given the circumstances. She was brought to GW, they say that that bandage saved her legs. But she sustained other injuries so she is not out of the woods yet," Toby tells me honestly. "She had internal bleeding, they had to operate, but they say she has good chances for a full recovery."

"I see. Did you find the two agents?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"Yeah, they were not far from the chopper. They were both shot. One of them is in the morgue, the other one is over at Langley," he imparts. "Listen, the investigation is still under way, and we don't know what happens next. They say that there must have been at least one more agent but they can't find him. So stay put and don't let anybody else into the house but Ron or me."

"Yeah, there was at least another one," I tell Toby and then explain the situation. And then I register what he said earlier and ask, "Are you coming for us?"

"Yes, we have Gregory Lymburg here, he has a chopper and he will fly Ron and me to the house. I'm here," he says then, and I hear him tell the President that it's me on the phone.

"Josh," I hear Matt's voice.

"Mr. President," I greet him. "The kids are okay. They are watching a video about the Seven Wonders right now, but Donna can call them," I say, and I feel Donna slide away.

"Josh, how can I ever thank you for this?" Matt asks, and I'm really touched by his voice. It's my job to do this for him, so I don't think that I deserve any thanks. Besides, they are kids and it's every grown-up's job to keep them safe.

"Sir, any news on the First Lady?" I ask, not knowing what to say.

"No, Josh, she is asleep at GW, they are optimistic but we have to wait. Those bandages saved her leg by the way," he tells me what Toby already told me.

"It was Donna, sir, you know me and blood," I tell him and I hear him laugh. "They are here, sir." I give the phone the kids, telling them that it's their Dad on the other end.

"Daddy!" they both shriek, and I'm really touched to see their faces alight with excitement.

"Yes, Daddy," I hear Miranda's answer and then I zone out. I'm thinking about our baby, praying to whatever God is out there that we'd never live through the same.

When I come back to reality, Donna is on the phone with Toby again, she obviously asked Rebecca for directions because she dictates the route. And then the phone is handed back to me, Ron wants to speak to me about the third agent. I tell him everything I know about Tim, but I'm no great help when it comes to directions, I can't tell Ron where he finds him.

I also ask Ron to make arrangements to take us to GW straight away, and he consents. I want to make sure Donna's okay, and the kids should be checked out too, I guess.

"Listen, Ron, can he leave Camp David?" I ask him at the end of the conversation.

"After we picked you up, Gregory will come back for him. Why?"

"We are good here, take him to GW first," I tell him.

"No, Josh," I hear the President.

"Yes, Mr. President. You have to by her side and you can meet us there later," I tell him. "You want to see your wife and your kids, this is the shortest way to ensure that," I try to persuade him.

"But Josh, your safety is…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I wave him off. "We are safe here, we won't open the door, and nobody knows we are here. The kids are fed and warm. Have Greg take you to the hospital, and then Toby and Ron can pick us up."

"Okay," Matt gives in, and I grin. "And wipe that grin from your face, Josh," he tells me.

"Sorry, sir," I say, the grin growing larger at his admonishing words. "Bye, sir. Give Helen a hug from me," I tell him, and he thanks. We hang up, and I turn to Donna. "You up for the Seven Wonders?" I ask her, and she nods with a smile.

We step into the living room, where the kids are glued to the TV. I guess this must be a pretty good documentary. Rebecca gives us another quilt, and we sit down in front of the couch. Donna's using my thighs as her pillow, and in about five minutes she is asleep. The kids never see the Lighthouse of Pharos and the Colossus of Rhodes. When the show is over, Rebecca comes in, and gives me a knowing smile when she sees the kids and Donna asleep.

"Rough night, eh?" she asks in a whisper.

"Yeah. Ms. Royce, you await someone this morning?" I ask her, knowing how strange that question sounds.

"No, Mr. Lyman, why?" she asks me.

"Please, don't open the door to anyone. You took a risk by taking us in, and I appreciate that. It's for your own safety too that you don't open the door."

"Can I help you any other way?" she asks me.

"No, ma'am, thank you for everything so far," I tell her, and she squeezes my shoulder when she leaves, handing me a pillow. I gently lower Donna's head onto it and follow her out.

"You were familiar," she tells me, when we reach the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm the White House Chief of Staff," I confess. "Donna's my fiancée, but the kids are not ours. They are Miranda and Peter Santos."

"I see," she says with a nod, and hands me another cup of coffee. "Will they pick you up?"

"Soon, ma'am."

"You want me to give a hand with the lunch?" she asks me then, and I nod although I warn her that I'm not that good in the kitchen. "You are not used to it, that doesn't mean you are not good at it," she retorts, and I have to admit, that sentiment has logic.

We talk about the NEA and public schools, I ask her about her books, admitting that I've never heard of her before. She laughs at that, taking no offense when I tell her what my usual reading material is comprised of. We prepare lunch together, and we are almost done when Donna walks into the kitchen, I get a kiss, and she encircles my waist from behind while we watch Rebecca stirring the soup in the pot.

So this is how normal people spend their Sundays, I admit it it can be relaxing. Maybe we should try this out. When I impart my newfound wisdom to Donna I get another kiss from her. Guess I said something sweet. I can be sweet sometimes.

My Blackberry rings and I sprint to pick it up before the kids wake up. It's Sam, and we talk for a few moments before I hear a distinctive knocking. Rebecca, she asked me to call her by her given name, goes to the door, Donna and me in tow.

"This is Toby Ziegler, Ms. Royce," we hear, and I nod to Rebecca that it's safe to open the door.

Toby steps in, immediately scanning me and Donna for any visible injuries. I give him a reassuring grin, and he nods. Ron follows him inside, and through the crack of the open door I see some agents securing the perimeter. Finally, Toby envelops Donna in a bear hug, and Donna hugs him back fiercely. I knew they were close, I knew they met every week but I didn't know Toby liked her this much. Although they always had some kind of special relationship, even during the first campaign for Bartlet, and especially after Rosslyn.

"How are Huck and Molly?" Donna inquires while I lead Ron into the living room. He scoops up Miranda, and I lift up Peter.

"We left them with their grandmother," Toby says. "Andie sends her hugs," he adds then.

"Rebecca," I say, turning to our hostess. "Thank you for everything. You need anything just give us a call."

"Thank you, Josh," she says, gives Donna a brief hug, and we are out of the house. A black SUV is waiting for us, taking us to the helicopter, and we are whisked off to the GW Hospital.

Peter is still asleep when we enter, and I place him into Matt's hands as soon as I spot him. Miranda goes to hug her father, and the President an I merely nod at each other before I turn to the nurse, instructing her to get a gynecologist at once. I'm using my Leo-face (a remarkable achievement, especially knowing how it gave me the creeps every time I was at the receiving end), and soon we are escorted into a separate examination room, complete with ultrasound.

"Good morning, Donna, I'm Dr. Keller," a doctor greets her with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, we are mostly here to reassure Josh that nothing happened to the baby," she says with an indulgent smile.

"How far are you?" Dr. Keller asks, and I await the answer too. I still don't have that information, and in the back of my mind I find it both embarrassing and irritating.

"About six weeks," Donna tells her, and the doctor nods.

"Okay, change into this, and I'll come back with a brochure on pregnancy for Josh," she says, and I help Donna into the hospital gown.

"I hate these things," she exclaims, just when Dr. Keller enters. She gives us a smile and a brochure for me. Great, it has pictures!

"Okay, you probably won't be able to see anything but a blob and maybe a tiny hand or feet," she tells us. "I will try to make it move," she says and gels Donna's tummy. The ultrasound gives us a picture, but she was right, I can't make out anything. She points to a spot where our baby is, and I stare at it but to the best of my ability I can't see anything. Well, the important thing is that she sees it. And then I notice a tiny movement for a mere second.

"It moved!" I exclaim, and Donna giggles which results in another tiny movement.

"Well, it seems to me that everything is alright with the baby," the doctor says. "You have an ob/gyn, Donna?"

"Yes, thank you," Donna says, while Dr. Keller wipes her tummy clean.

"I understand that you spent the night on a cold ground," Dr. Keller says.

"Yes," Donna answers with a nod.

"You should schedule a check-up with your doctor then, just to be sure that there is no infection or inflammation."

"Thank you, I'll do that," Donna says and wants to change back into her clothes.

"They brought you a new set of clothes," Dr. Keller says, pointing at a bag on the floor.

"Thanks," we say in unison, and she leaves us.

I too change, and then we make our way back to Matt and the kids.

"Is everything okay?" Matt and Toby ask simultaneously, and Donna nods. The kids are nowhere to be seen, guess they have a check-up too.

"How is Helen?" Donna asks the president then.

"She was awake for a brief period of time," the president tells her, and Donna squeezes his hand. They continue their conversation in whispers, so I turn to Toby.

"Thanks for everything, Toby. I will call Andie later to thank her too. Did you two have a hard time to come through?"

"No, not really," Toby says. "I asked for Ronna, and they put me through immediately. She recognized me as Bob," he says, and we both chuckle. "To get to Camp David was definitely harder, but Andie's presence made it easier, that's why I asked her to accompany me. You can't imagine the look Ron gave me when he first saw me."

"You two seemed okay when you picked us up."

"Yeah, I guess the messenger got a little shine from your heroics," he says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Did they find Tim?" I ask him sotto voce, not wanting to upset Matt or Donna.

"Not yet, but they are on it," Toby tells me.

"Did he call President Bartlet?" I ask then, gesturing towards Matt with my head.

"Yeah, he was fantastic, but Josh, he sounded so weak," Toby tells me, and I know how deep his regret runs. I know he didn't want to cause any grief to President Bartlet, I know how he respected him. He merely did what his heart dictated. I don't know what I would have done in his place, maybe yelled at the President, at CJ and maybe even at the Joint Chiefs. What he did was treason, but he did it to mend a broken promise to the American people. The promise that their government will ensure their safety above all.

"I know, I talked to him last week," I tell Toby, not knowing what to do. I mean with CJ and Donna I know how to handle these things, I'm a tactile person, I hug them to reassure them. I would even hug Sam if he were here and would be at the same situation, but with Toby, I don't know. I look him in the eye, trying to tell him without words that everything will be okay. "I asked Donna to marry me, and she said yes," I tell him, trying to change the topic and chase away the residual awkwardness.

"She was always somewhat crazy if you ask me," Toby says, and Donna and Matt both chuckle at his remark. "Congratulations, Donna, he doesn't deserve you," Toby says, and Donna hugs him again. "But the two of you deserve happiness," he adds then in a whisper, and I think he didn't mean me to hear that, but I did and I'm touched. Matt gathers me in a hug too and he pats my back congratulatory.

"Sir, the kids are ready to see you," a nurse informs us, and Matt retreats, leaving us standing around on the floor.

"Listen, Toby can drive you home, but I want to wait for the president and I also want to check on Helen if that's okay with you," I tell Donna, and I see she wants to protest.

"Donna, I have this," I say, waving the brochure in my hand, "and it tells me that you most likely experience fatigue. Spending the night in the forest and then sleeping on the wooden floor is not what I would call resting. Go home, take a shower and get in bed. I should be back around six."

"You promise?" she asks me, and I nod.

"And stop at a restaurant, Toby, she needs something to eat," I tell them, my mind already back at work.

"Okay," Toby says, and I see an agent flanking their side as they leave. I don't know when I can fully trust random Secret Service agents again, all I know that I trust Ron.

"Mr. Lyman?" a nurse calls me, and I turn to her. "Mrs. Santos is awake. She asked for you."

"Thank you," I tell the nurse, and I venture into Helen's room, bracing myself for the sight.

It's not that bad as I remembered from the last time, but then again, Donna was blown up in a car.

"Hi, ma'am," I greet her with a grin and I get a slight smile.

"Josh, come here," she tells me, and when I lean down, she kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you for taking care of my kids."

"Nothing to thank for, ma'am," I tell her, and she nods.

"You know, at least in these times you should call me Helen."

"I'll try," I tell her with another grin. "I'm bringing happy and sad news for you, ma'am, sorry, Helen."

"Really?" she asks me.

"I asked Donna to marry me, and she said yes, although I'm sure you were aware of my proposal."

"We talked about it, yes. Donna was clearly upset yesterday morning, so I pestered her until she spilled the beans."

"Well, then you know that she is pregnant," I tell her, and she nods. "That would be the bad news for you." I grin at her.

"Donna promised me to work for me after the baby was born, Josh. We will arrange something," she tells me, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Okay, I didn't know that, but okay, I guess," I tell her, not wanting to betray my disappointment.

"Josh, I need Donna, and she needs this job. You can't expect her to stay at the house, do nothing else but feed the baby and wait for you to get home."

"Is that really bad?" I ask her in a whisper.

"Not bad, Josh. But Donna wouldn't want that. Talk about this with her, but please, please don't put your foot into your mouth again," she implores me.

"I'll try, Helen. May I ask for a favor though?"

"But of course, Josh, anything," she tells me.

"Would you keep an eye on her during this pregnancy? I know I will switch into overprotective mode soon and that I will irritate the hell out of her, so I need an ally."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Helen promises me, and I grin at her again.

"Oh, you think you are so smart!" she exclaims, coughing a bit.

"Why is he smart?" I hear the president's voice, and I turn around. He is standing in the doorway, Miranda and Peter at his side.

"He wanted me to keep an eye on Donna, but he asked me to do this because of me and not because of Donna."

"Thank you, Josh," Matt says, and I want to retreat, leaving the family alone.

"I know that physical therapy sucks, Helen, but believe me, it's worth the effort," I impart a wisdom I've learnt some five years ago, and then depart, seeking out Ron. We talk about upping the details of the First Family, and agree that new background checks should be run on every Secret Service agent. That's when Sam, Annabeth and Lou appear at GW. I bark my orders to Lou and Annabeth to head off a PR-disaster, Sam hands me a folder on our way to the limo. We have a country to run, and I have a home to return to, so we move fast and work efficient. Just like every other day, except that this day will never fade into the endless string of normal days. No, I'll never be able to forget this day again. Because this is the day we came out of the woods.

**THE END**


End file.
